Chapter Text
House flipped over a set of aces once again. On his right, Wilson groaned, “What?! Oh, come on.” He smacked his cards on the coffee table, revealing a 7 of clubs and 9 of hearts. House snickered and reached over to take the $10 pot, placing it in his pile with the others.
“Down on your luck tonight, maybe you should stop while I’m ahead.” He had that expression on his face, the one that he only showed when he was really having his fun. The playfulness in House’s eyes burned into the side of Wilson’s head, and he sighed. Changing the subject (trying to get out of losing all his cash, without admitting to being beat), he said,
“You got anything to drink?” House let him wiggle away. It was no fun teasing Wilson when he had pulled all the ground from under him. House would say it’s because his fuse would get shorter, he’d have less of a chance to poke at him. But really, he enjoyed seeing Wilson win, at least sometimes. It kept his spirits up, with a smile on his face and the banter burning hot.
“Yeah, I’m sure there’s something.” House got up from the couch and searched his kitchen. With Wilson staying with him again, the liquor ran dry fast and every few cupboard’s insides had been tampered with. Eventually, he found a tall bottle of wine lodged right at the back between a few other boxes and decided it was good enough. The branded label was smudged and scratched so badly he couldn’t make out anything on it, the only legible text was on the neck, a date which read ‘bottled 1973’. An aged wine, red. House had no idea why he had it and for apparently long enough for it to decompose on a shelf. He grabbed two glasses and settled back next to Wilson, who looked like he could doze off at any moment now. It wasn’t late by any means, Wilson had done an overnight at the hospital and needed a distraction. One that required all of their favourite activities in one night, ending with a drink it seemed.
“Hey, don’t leave me hanging here, you’ve gotta match me shot for shot!” House poured barely any liquid into each glass, already sensing they wouldn’t have time for much more.
“You brought out wine.” Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. He fought them open with the help of a few tired blinks.
“So you are still conscious.” House handed one of the glasses off and quickly threw back his drink. He was already pouring another when he noticed Wilson eyeing the dark red. “It’s fancy aged wine, so appreciate that I broke it out just for you.” Wilson stayed quiet but sipped his glass. Honestly he couldn’t care less what they drank right now as long as it was inebriating.
***
House was happily surprised when Wilson almost did ‘match him shot for shot’. When they emptied the bottle it actually had become late, a few episodes of Housewives later. It was clear Wilson was ready to drop dead, so House took the remnants of their evening to the kitchen, glasses in the sink, bottle in the trash (he had no recycling) and money in his pocket. He returned to the living room only to walk past Wilson, still sat in his spot on the couch, and called out, “I’m heading in, don’t forget to turn out the lights in your drunken stupor!” All he heard in reply was a faint “Uh-huh.”